Well if I had to point to where the fire started, I'd go back quite a long ways to when I was a little girl. My dad is, and always has been, an antique dealer and treasure hunter. I have such fond memories of riding along in my dad's truck going to garage sale after garage sale with him in our epic search for "old stuff" as he'd so eloquently say.
Every Saturday we'd hit the streets - my dad would have a routed map of sales categorized by opening times - this list was very important to our success. We'd get up early, hit the road, and every 10 minutes jump out of the car and onto someone's beautifully manicured lawn blanketed in folding tables covered in trinkets and treasures and we'd scour the tables looking for that one thing; we never knew what that "one thing" was when we starting looking -- but once we saw it, we knew-- That's the thing we've been looking for, that's our treasure! I guess it was "the hunt" that got me at first; the rummage through the rubble for that one piece of gold. But after several years, it became something else altogether; it transformed into a love of stories. My dad and I would discover something incredibly unusual, take it home and uncover its story together and thus the whole experience began to create a close bond between us.
As I grew older, I began to realize what a gift I'd been given - my dad was this all-knowing source of knowledge on all things old and lovely and he was passing this knowledge onto me, a little at a time, every weekend. Together we'd take on the "antique dealers' scene" - waiting in line at 6:00am outside an estate sale (I was always the only teenager or 20-somthing in line, and many times, the only GIRL) - the other dealers would look at me funny, turn their noses up at me for taking up a valuable spot in line, but my dad never hesitated - he never even noticed them, as far as he was concerned, I had more right to be there than any of those other guys - and that feeling meant the world to me.
And that's how our weekends went, year after year, my dad and I, finding all those lost things. And maybe that's what made me love it - the way my dad saw in me the gift he had given me - or maybe it was just our time together that made the love for rummaging through the rubble grow. Either way, it's a love that's very dear to my heart and I'm so happy to be able to share it with you today!

My dad and I still go out every Saturday morning. I make the routed maps now though since the internet is easier for me to navigate :) He drives the pick up truck - I navigate - and together we keep on searching for those forgotten treasures.